na foine ting: "this is a fine thing, here" or "look at this fine thing" or "I've got a very fine thing here, check it out" or "well, this is a damn pretty fucking kettle of fish; nice work, buckethead."

I think Brian, Naomi and I were all at a different hockey game, despite being on the same relatively small stretch of ice.

What's even stranger is I'm quite sure I was at the same game they were until the last half hour or so, so maybe I skated through some weird portal or something.

I was on D and miserable for the first part. We were playing four on four and as I usually am, mostly baffled by it, and as a result doing little more than puckchasing and tripping over the blue line.

Then I moved up to forward, and Brian (rink guy Brian, not Sparks) was with me, and suddenly it was forecheck forecheck forecheck, and all these sweet sweet opportunities, some of which actually translated to shots on goal and one extremely happy little actual goal on the Shooter Tutor (I so own that goalie).

Credit to Brian for working the most amazing offensive strategy game I've ever been in the middle of, drawing players to him and then sending me the puck at the perfect moment, so that I was in exactly the right place when I got it and then had loads of time to do whatever I wanted.

It was sweet... every time we got in, I was relaxed and confident because I knew he'd sort out something brilliant for us. All I had to do was not trip on my dick... or if I did, we'd sort it out, get the puck back and try something else. All games should be like that.

I learned a lot, too, about what owning the play looks like right in front of the net, and how it can all slow way down and you don't have to throw it around, blam blam blam.

Either that or everyone was sitting back on me because I was sucking, and all that time was compliments of the players who stayed off me and waited for me to score.